


Metronome

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman, Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Blood and Injury, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: The trauma lingered.Kevin always lived with the memories of his rape at the hands of Robin, but now it interfered with his relationship. He wanted nothing more than to give himself to Warsman, even as he fought with past fears, but the trauma would always resurface and break what spell lay between them. Kevin just wanted the pain to leave.





	Metronome

_A creak of the door . . ._

_Kevin rolled onto his side, as he clenched at the covers. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, while his knuckles turned white from the pressure, and his small body – curled into a foetal position – shivered until the mattress started to tremble. The room was dark and filled with shadows. A stray moonbeam was the only illumination, as it broke its way through a gap in the curtains. Kevin drew in a deep breath. He feigned sleep._

_The door clicked closed with a soft sound. He screwed shut his eyes, with a few tears pricking hot at the corners as they threatened to fall, and he listened to the steady pressure of footsteps that came closer and closer and closer . . . his heart beat faster and faster . . . the sound stopped at the edge of the bed. A rustle of fabric. A thud of clothes hitting the carpet. A cold darkness fell over Kevin, enough that the moonbeam was eradicated and left him with nothing, and he swallowed back building bile in his throat. A voice whispered:_

_‘Are you awake?’_

_Kevin prayed. He ran through every scenario in his mind . . . his mother might return home early, a family friend may stop by for a visit, but maybe – just maybe – Robin would grow disinterested by his sleeping form and leave . . . just leave . . . a tear ran down the side of his face and into his hairline. A callused finger came down to push back a lock of blond hair, while a low hum sounded far louder in the ensuing silence. Every beat of his heart was so loud that it blocked out all other sound. He was dizzy . . . nauseous . . ._

_The hand pulled back. A click of the radio at his bedside betrayed intent, as the sounds of a wrestling match echoed about the large bedroom, and – if anyone happened to pass by – no one would hear the cries and sobs or sounds of skin on skin. Kevin focussed on the commentary, as Nakano cheerily commented on an inefficient tiger-hold. There followed a thud. The steel of a mask was placed just beside the radio, muffling its speaker . . ._

_* * *_

Warsman stood in the doorway. A smile broke across the human part of his face-plate, while his yellow eyes dilated and fixated on Kevin, and his leg – raised impossibly high, pressed against the doorframe – exposed every curve of his muscles. It was a deeply erotic sight, with the candlelight of the bedroom reflecting from every contour. The darkness lay behind him, while he turned towards the light, and his smile was sincere and warm.

The sheets were soft against Kevin’s skin, as he rolled onto his back. A small pair of black briefs barely kept his modesty, as he strained against the fabric, and he locked eyes with Warsman, while he patted the edge of the bed with a clear invitation. The door remained open, while Warsman strode across the bedroom and shucked the last piece of armour and attire, and his impressive length brought a blush to Kevin, who swallowed hard at the sight. A cool draught blew through the open doorway, catching at Kevin and forcing his nipples erect.

It was beautiful. Warsman knelt at the edge of the bed, with the mattress dipping under his weight, and he leaned over Kevin like an angel, with the illumination of candlelight all around him, as he pressed a hand beside Kevin’s head. A lock of blond hair brushed against the black hand, while tears pricked at Warsman’s eyes. The affection was apparent. The smile broke lines against an otherwise timeless face, as he whispered low and smooth:

_“_ _Я люблю тебя_ _,_ _моя дорогая_ _.”_

The hand slowly reached upward. It paused just beside his cheek, until Kevin briefly nodded, and finally it made contact, where it brushed slowly down his flushed skin. A hint of classical music drifted through the lounge and into the bedroom, where it beat slightly slower than Kevin’s racing heart, and he struggled to maintain his breathing as panic mingled with anticipation and desire. He instinctively nuzzled against the cool palm.

Warsman knelt astride Kevin, as he let his hand slide above his chest. He waited. Every beat of Kevin’s heart pounded against his ribs, felt against that cool palm and counted by an attentive mind, and Warsman matched his breaths with Kevin. The knees on either side of his hips hemmed him in place, but they were a comfort . . . a cocoon . . . Kevin placed his hand over Warsman’s, as he entwined their fingers and clasped hard. A tear ran from his eye and down into his hairline, while he laughed warmly and stared longingly toward Warsman.

* * *

_‘You’re beautiful,’ whispered Robin._

_The hot breath against his ear was hot and moist. Kevin instinctively moved away from the touch, as he buried his face against the pillows, only for the gesture to be taken as consent, and he was rolled gently onto his stomach. A pair of knees blocked him in, as a hand pressed itself between his shoulder-blades and trapped him against the sheets. He struggled for breath. The pillow pressed uncomfortably against his mouth, blocking fresh air._

_‘You trained well this week. You deserve a reward.’_

_He could no longer hold back the tears, as they fell fast and loose. They stung as they merged with the sweat, blocking his view in the dark and shadowy room, and he froze as a pair of rough hands dug beneath the waistband of his pyjama bottoms . . . he wanted to fight back, he wanted to scream . . . would he be punished? Night after night after night . . . he never fought back, so perhaps Robin thought he wanted it . . . maybe it was his fault . . ._

_The bottoms were pulled down to his ankles. Kevin clawed at the sheets and buried his face into the pillows, as he pushed down the shame, and he bit into the fabric, while rough hands pried and poked and massaged at his buttocks. The bile fell into his mouth, where it stung and burned at his tongue and spilled over his lips. He choked and spluttered. A low hum from Robin drowned out his pain, while he forcibly parted Kevin’s legs, and – with a high-pitched cry – Kevin sobbed brokenly into his pillow and tensed in wait for the worst._

_* * *_

Kevin panted. The black briefs were slowly eased down, where they exposed his aching erection to the cool air, and – with gently hands – they were slipped over his ankles and neatly folded, before being placed on the bedside table. He parted his legs. Warsman watched with a lick of his lips, but made no move to get into position. Kevin mewled and writhed, until he found courage to curl his finger and signal for Warsman to come closer . . . 

The bed dipped and moved, as Warsman crawled between his legs. A chaste kiss was placed to his cheek, then his jaw, and then his neck . . . soon it was less chaste, as a rough tongue explored every inch of flesh and took in the taste of sweat, and lips suckled in places to leave marks as a reminder of their love. Kevin arched his back. The lips suckled at his nipple, sending spirals of pleasure coursing through him, as he wrapped his legs around a toned waist, and a high-pitched whine escaped his lips. Warsman pulled back enough to whisper:

“Tell me to stop, I will stop.”

A burst of breath ran over the wet skin, sending shivers through Kevin, and he rolled his head with heavy pants, while Warsman reached for the bottle of lubrication beneath the pillow, where he uncapped it with a loud click of the plastic lid. The scent of strawberries filled the air, enough to ground him in the moment and force his eyes to lock on Warsman. A brief panic sparked through him. Arousal merged with fear. Kevin stroked at the bald head, while Warsman continued to kiss and nibble against his stomach muscles.

“I – I’m feeling not myself tonight,” confessed Kevin.

“Look me in the eyes, my love.” Warsman kissed at his bellybutton. “I want you to not look away, so you never forget that it’s _me_ with you and that this is _your_ choice. If the past has found you tonight, then let us go slow in the present. Remember you are in control.”

“But I want you to enjoy this, and if I tell you to stop –”

“I could not enjoy this if you do not enjoy this.”

Warsman braced himself on one arm. He knelt over Kevin, so that their lips were close enough to touch and share breath, and Warsman – only when Kevin squinted to express consent – squirted some lubrication awkwardly onto his palm. The tube was soon tossed aside, as his hand slowly moved lower and lower . . . a wet fingertip pressed lightly to the winking ring of muscle. It stayed still. Kevin laughed, even as his mind flicked rapidly between past and present . . . desire and dread . . . he nodded with a smile.

The finger slid slowly inside, following the natural curve of his inner walls. Kevin instinctively clamped around the invading digit, as sparks flashed about his vision, and he pushed out to allow easier entry inwards . . . Warsman angled a finger to his prostrate . . . Kevin cried out and arched his back, nails clawing down that black back. He choked on saliva, as pleasure coursed through every nerve. The adrenaline flooded him. Warsman whispered:

“Remember, I will stop if you say the word . . .”

A second finger was added . . . a third . . . Kevin writhed. He instinctively bucked downward and thrust towards the fingers, while small sounds escaped him . . . _‘uh, uh, uh’_. . . the emptiness when they were removed was more than he could bear, as he clung to Warsman and delivered a sloppy kiss in desperation. The head of a member was placed to his well-stretched hole, while Warsman struggled to ask for permission through the kisses and moans and stolen gasps. Kevin used his legs to pull Warsman into him.

* * *

 _Agonising pain ripped through him. Kevin screamed out against his pillows, with the feathers muffling the sound and absorbing the saliva that fell from his lips. The pain was too much. It tore at his inner walls and stretched him to breaking point, until something warm and wet leaked out and merged with something deep inside him, and he knew –_ he knew _– that the blood was mingling with the pre-come. He wept and choked on vomit._

_The sound of balls slapping against buttocks echoed out, while low grunts punctuated every slap, and Kevin clawed at the sheets, as he sought to crawl away from the intrusion. A hand pressed hard against his back to bruise. It forced him in place, even as he struggled to breathe and his vision turned hazy and spotted from pressure. The friction inside was hot and seared itself into his memory, while the scratch of pubic hair tickled at his white skin, and tears tasted bitter as they mingled with sweat and mucus and saliva._

_It hurt. The hot breath at his neck clung to his skin, etching itself into the muscle, and he wanted to peal off the skin and rub until he reached bone. Holes appeared in the sheets beneath his fingernails, while crescent-shaped cuts broke across his palm. Kevin tasted iron. It flooded his mouth, as his teeth broke through his lip, and his lower back ached with the increasing pressure and rising rhythm that threatened to destroy him._

_‘P-Please,’ begged Kevin. ‘S-Stop, D-Daddy.’_

_The pain continued, with an uncomfortable squelching sound. On occasion, the member would slip out and Kevin would heave a sigh of relief, but it would soon be replaced and the pain would start again as Kevin screamed out with hysterical cries. The radio was soon drowned out with the sweat of skin on skin . . . ‘beautiful, so beautiful’ . . . Kevin focused on his breathing, as he tried to bear the worst of the pain. He choked out a final:_

_‘S-S-Stop, I – I don’t like it . . .’_

_Tears poured. They soaked into his pillow, until the wet fabric rubbed against his reddened cheeks, and soon the air left him as the hand slid upward, along his back, until it buried itself into his hair with a cruel grip. It pushed him down. He choked and spluttered and gasped, until every burst of air was scalding and painful. Kevin fought for oxygen. The black room slowly vanished with a spark of colour, as his dizzy and light head fell weak, and soon consciousness left him. The last thing he remembered was the hand pulling away . . ._

_* * *_

The thrusts were slow and steady. The gentle pace stole Kevin’s breath, while every downward push aimed directly for his prostate, and the bursts of pleasure kept him burning and boiling close to the edge, while he locked his arms around the muscular neck. It was ecstasy. Kevin panted and threw back his head, while his blown pupils struggled to make sense of the bright room, and his sweat-soaked skin pressed flush against Warsman. A dozen kisses were pressed to his neck, until the speed picked up . . . the squelch of lubricant . . .

 _The taste of blood. The searing pain_. Kevin choked on his saliva, as the sensation of balls against buttocks added to the sensations and pleasures, and yet the fear returned, adrenaline mixing with endorphins . . . _‘I don’t like it’ . . . I want this_. . . a low cry escaped his lips, while his inner walls clenched around the thick member. He tried to draw Warsman further inside, but the scent of cologne flooded over him . . . _he doesn’t wear cologne . . ._

“I love you,” whispered Warsman. “ _мой._ ”

Kevin furrowed his brow, while a hand squeezed between them. It wrapped itself around his member with a firm grip, as a callused thumb dipped into the slit and rubbed loose circles with his pre-come, and the fingers strummed along the underside, as it seeking to milk the come from him before his time. He enjoyed it. He wanted it. Kevin locked eyes with Warsman again, who struggled to keep his open with the sheer rapture.

The expressions bordered between humorous and erotic, ones that could often result in teasing or foreplay in other sessions between them, but Kevin a different face . . . a lighter face, an older face . . . fear struck him hard. It knocked the wind from him. The erection flagged, as his heart raced impossibly fast within his breast, and Kevin choked on the air while his ears focussed only on that rapid beat . . . _pound, pound, pound_. . . tears streamed from his eyes, while he kicked at Warsman and shook his head over and over . . .

“S-Stop,” begged Kevin. “Please!”

Warsman pulled out with an anguished growl. He dropped Kevin with a heavy thud, enough that Kevin bounced on the mattress with a heavy exhale of breath, and his hole – leaking pre-come and in spasms as it searched for the lost member – felt both sore and tingled with need, even as Kevin’s legs parted slowly and he sank into the mattress. Warsman collapsed beside him with enough force that it jostled Kevin, and his breath came out in heavy pants, as he rapidly jerked at his member with expert and desperate jerks.

It took only a minute or less for him to orgasm. Warsman screamed out, as his back arched until it looked painful and at breaking point, and every muscle tensed until they bulged from their limbs, as ropes after ropes of hot come spurted over his twitching abdomen. A low groan escaped him, as the slit of his member dribbled the last of his come. He fell back against the sweat-soaked sheets, while his limbs fell limp at his side. Warsman murmured:

“Are – Are you okay, Kevin?”

A hand slid against the sheets to touch Kevin. It entwined their fingers and squeezed, providing a momentary reassurance, and Kevin – struggling to keep control – fought back the tears and cries and retches that threatened to spill from his lips. Each breath was hitched and forced, while he squeezed hard enough that knuckles rubbed together. His lip trembled. The pain in his chest constricted, while Warsman slid closer and kept still.

“Kevin, I’m not leaving you . . .”

* * *

_Robin froze inside him . . ._

_The come was hot and fast, filling him until it spilled from the swollen edges of his hole, and it stung . . . burned . . . striking with a searing pain against the inner tears. A low grunt was the only sign that the climax had been reached, while the member slowly deflated inside him and was pulled out at such a pace that Kevin feared it might start afresh. He sobbed. The member soon came out, leaving come leaking out with blood onto the mattress._

_A low hiss of breath followed, while Robin snatched at his mask. It was pulled on with a few rustles of hair against steel, before the bed dipped and pieces of scattered clothing were picked from the floor, and soon – with a loud click – the radio was turned off and silence invaded the room. The sound of his cries echoed. The sniffs. The moans. Kevin remained deathly still, as the scent of cologne lingered in the air and footsteps walked away, and the door opened . . . closed . . . silence again. There was nothing but silence . . ._

_Kevin listened to his heart. It continued to race._

_He stayed awake. The beating continued at a fast pace, while he screwed shut his eyes and remembered the pain from before . . . do not move . . . if you move it’ll hurt more. He would scrub at his skin and soak in hot waters, but the touches would remain etched on his soul, and his mother would never know . . . always turning her back . . . no insults accepted towards the hero of England. It would continue . . . every night it would continue . . ._

_* * *_

Kevin broke. The tears fell fast and hard, running down the side of his face. He pushed the balls of his hands into his eyes, while he lay naked and weak against the sheets, and he choked and spluttered on saliva and bile, even as he struggled to find words. The sheets were brought up high to his neck, as Warsman tucked him into bed with gentle hums. Kevin let loose broken laughter, even as his body trembled and he felt those touches again . . . Robin . . . Warsman . . . both mingling together until the conflict brought pain to his stomach.

The sheets rustled as Warsman knelt beside him, and a few fingers ran through his long locks of hair, enough that Kevin half-closed his eyes and caught his breath. He continued to sob, but the soft strokes helped ease the forming lump in his throat and pain in his chest. The hyperventilation slowly stopped. He blinked away his tears, even as he rolled onto his side and toyed with the wrinkled sheets and let loose low hiccups. Warsman asked:

“May I hold you?”

Kevin nodded. Warsman lay down on the sheets beside him, before he wrapped his arms around the muscular waist and pulled Kevin flush against him, so that Kevin felt every slow and heavy exhale of breath against his back. The warm breath against his neck came provided a constant reassurance, while words of Russian and English merged together in a language of their own making, and Kevin gave a staggered breath, as he reached low to hold onto the pair of hands clasped just above his stomach. A tear ran down his cheek.

“I – I ran away when I was eight,” choked Kevin. “Everyone asked why I ran away so young, and I told them it was the harsh training, but the truth is that I couldn’t take it any longer. I drank away most of my teenage years, but it’s still here . . . in my head.”

“We have a lifetime to work through these issues,” said Warsman.

“But what life can I give you? We get so far, but then . . . every so often . . . it comes back and it ruins things for you. I know I still have so much to give . . . I know he can’t take everything from me; he’ll never know the taste of my kiss, the sound of my laughter, the things that arouse me . . . still, I feel like he’s raping me every time we make love . . .

“I try to disassociate. I try to rationalise. Why is it that he stole a piece of my soul? I want this and I want you, but even twelve years on he’s still in my head and ruining things for me! I don’t want to lose you, Warsman. I just want a real relationship . . . between equals. I don’t want you to have to settle, but maybe . . . maybe I could please you in other ways?”

“Kevin, just being with you is a pleasure in itself. I want nothing more than you are willing to give, and I find it an honour just to be in your presence. Never feel that you are anything less than everything to me, as you have nothing to feel ashamed about. A relationship is more about physical acts of intimacy, but instead a connection between two souls, and I feel most fulfilled by our emotional connection. Let us take things slowly, my love.”

The words were soft and sincere. Warsman would have been happy with anything from non-penetrative intercourse to an entirely abstinent relationship, and yet the guilt and shame and frustration welled inside Kevin, as he clenched at those hands and tensed. He screwed shut his eyes, as the tears threatened to fall afresh. He wanted sex. He _wanted_ to feel Warsman inside him and to be inside Warsman, but each act brought with it cold memories. Kevin curled himself into a foetal position, while the cool draught caught at his skin.

“I just want the pain to end,” choked Kevin.

Warsman held him, even as he wept once again. The tears refused to stop, even as his voice grew hoarse and his nose streamed with liquid, and soon he was choking with such force that he needed to be reminded how to breathe . . . how to live . . . Warsman rocked him and shushed him and sang to him, while the world shattered around them. Kevin screamed. He tasted blood on his tongue, but he continued to scream . . . the pain never left . . .

* * *

_He curled onto his side. The pain was a dull throb, as the morning sun slowly rose. A sunbeam broke its way through the gap in the curtains, while his bloodshot eyes stared aimlessly ahead at a speck of paint on the otherwise perfect carpet, and his heart finally stilled and his mind finally cleared. A small backpack waited in his closest. If they found him, he would run again. He would keep running until he found a home._

_He closed his eyes and prayed for someone to help . . ._

_He prayed he would no longer be alone._


End file.
